Category: Satire

Help Those Who Suffer From TDS

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Class, today we will discuss Trump Derangement Syndrome, or TDS. This is a disease that a significant amount of people supposedly suffer, according to the followers of DJT. We will do a deeper dive into the symptoms shared by those who are suffering this syndrome.

The first symptom is a visceral reaction to lying. This could be exposure to a statement that is flatly denied even though video of past interviews confirm the offending quote, or it could be a statement easily shown to be false, or any range of actions that reflect a reality different than those who suffer TDS experience. This visceral reaction is ridiculed by those who do not suffer from TDS. Indeed, those who are blissfully unaware of their proclivity to accept these lies have a difficult time understanding why TDS sufferers even care about lies.

Another issue is an allergy against bullying. Bullying brings up the gag reflex time after time. The symptoms it produces is often confused with bulimia. Those who share this allergy will often recall episodes in their own lives where either they witnessed acts of aggression from bullies, or were victims of bullying themselves. The idea that someone could attain power by causing their opponents to retreat by being called out by a bully is anathema to them. It reminds them of days where cogency of an argument did not matter, all that mattered was strength (and often that strength was overstated, but no one wanted to risk physical punishment by testing out the bully). It is amazing how often childhood experiences shape the adult. Those who are the bullies and never feel adverse consequences for their actions tend to keep that mode of action for their adult life also.

A symptom most sufferers of TDS share is intellectual curiosity. They are aware that they do not have the answer to all issues, and must learn about an issue from others who have more knowledge. When they encounter someone who insists they have knowledge surpassing all others, therefore they do not need to engage in learning, they become incredulous. Images of Wile E. Coyote declaring himself a Super Genius come to mind. Of course, the sufferers of TDS all remember those instances of Wile E. learning that gravity is an unalterable law. They fear the consequences of being led by someone who thinks they know more than those who have spent their lives learning about a subject. A hurricane projection with a crudely drawn extra line comes to mind, where stable genius causes an entire region to fear an oncoming storm that would never approach them.

Sufferers of TDS often face this debilitating disease in silence. There are no national foundations whose purpose is to provide healing from this disease. That is why we are announcing with this commercial a new way to assist those suffering from TDS. For only $19 a month, you can help to provide relief to those who have suffered the curse of TDS. Remember, only you can prevent TDS. And if you use a credit card, we will send you this T-shirt emblazoned with The Mug Shot. Be the first in your neighborhood to display your allegiance in the fight against TDS. Operators are standing by now.

5th Avenue Shootout

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Beelzebub bowed down to the Don. “What an easy mark he is,” thought the Devil. “Just a little bit of flattery and he’s eating out of my hand.”

The Donald looked around him. They were alone, so no one else could see this remarkable exchange taking place. He had finally arrived! Someone the Donald looked up to was paying homage to him. “Go on, get up. No need for formality here.”

Beelzebub took advantage of the proffered familiarity, and slunk over to the Donald’s side, taking his arm. “You already have just about anything I can offer. The best women money can buy, the camaraderie of those leaders you like to pal around with, sycophants who thought they held power in this nation until they came up against you. What more do you desire?”

The Donald thought for a brief moment. “I want to make it certain I get elected, then I want to never have to have an election after that.”

Beelzebub pondered on how best to make this bargain. He had already received the Donald’s soul wrapped up in a bow. The only thing left was the submission of the foreclosure notice. Then he knew. He knew what he could do that would provide the ultimate takedown for this preposterous charlatan so looked up to by his admirers. “You know that thing you said about shooting someone on 5th Avenue and not losing a supporter? Well, we can make that happen, and once it does, no one will ever challenge you again.” Beelzebub looked around, making certain no one else could overhear them. “I’ll get you Alvin Bragg out there on 5th Avenue. You can’t ask for anything more.”

The Donald appeared gleeful. “That’s wonderful. I’ve always wanted to take down that stuffed shirt. How he ever got elected, I’ll never know. One of those affirmative action hires for sure. Probably has immigrant blood in him.”

Beelzebub stroked his goatee. This was going better than he had any reason to expect. Not only was the mark accepting the bargain, he was pushing the bounds by asking for more.

Since Beelzebub was nearly omnipotent, the Donald instantly found himself outside of his namesake tower, holding a semi-automatic rifle just like the images he would see festooned on banners his followers liked to display. Only those banners had muscular definition that the Donald sorely lacked, though no one dared to mention it to the Donald. Sure enough, walking across the street the Donald could pick out the form of Alvin Bragg. The Donald raised the rifle, and pulled the trigger. Since this was still under the control of Beelzebub, the Donald found that the rifle he held was fully automatic. The rapid firing did bring down the Manhattan DA, but also brought down dozens of other denizens of Manhattan as collateral damage.

The Donald yelled excitedly. “Got him. I got him.”

Swiftly the Donald’s Secret Service escorts came up and grabbed the offending weapon from his hands. One of his escorts put his finger on the trigger, and it fired wildly across 5th Avenue. That unlucky agent was instantly gunned down by the others in the patrol. The agents huddled, and soon came up with the story that it was only a rogue agent who was responsible for the carnage. The Donald was totally innocent.

His legend grew. Those who were hesitant at giving their total allegiance, now could barely stand the wait in line to give their own obeisance to the Donald. Those who had spoken up previously somehow mysteriously lost their voices. It was strange to see the leading subject matter on networks like MSNBC, now disappearing into the cable void. They had to find new topics to take the time. Did you know that Anthony Fauci is now employed by pharmaceutical companies? I didn’t until the topic of the Donald disappeared from view. So what that his employment is truly with academia, we all know who’s really paying the bill.  

The campaign flew past in a blur. Those who had talked about the interminable length of the upcoming campaign, had to swallow their words as the news cycle swung around to the unbearable lightness of the Donald’s being, as each pronouncement became more favorable for the Donald. Election day was upon the US, and the outcome was a foregone conclusion. Not only was it possible for the Donald to shoot someone on 5th Avenue, and not lose support, but somehow the actual act of shooting folks on 5th became part of the allure of the Donald. Why vote for steady competence when you could vote for the nation’s latest superhero! The Donald, with his photo shopped abs, holding an AK! The voters of this nation spoke with almost one voice, selecting the obese one to lead the country. Soon it would be inauguration day.

Beelzebub rubbed his hands together in glee. Time to foreclose.

Slimey’s Merchandising

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I luxuriated in the feel of the February sunshine as I sat on a bench next to the Tidal Basin. It always felt good to enjoy the pre-spring warmth, tempered by the air cooled by the water nearby. Soon the trees would be wreathed in blossom, and this walk would be overwhelmed with tourists intent on capturing the perfect Instagram picture of the cherry trees. But for now, I had the entire basin nearly to myself.

Nearly to myself. That is what I thought I had. But soon I became aware of another presence coming towards me from behind. I turned around on the bench, and saw my friend Slimey approach me. Now Slimey was the original DC swamp monster, in fact, I first saw him coming out of the Tidal Basin. He is an 8’ tall reptile, sporting rapier-like claws and teeth that could tear you from end to end. But as Slimey became more used to human life, he began to lose some of his ferocity. Of course, the tailored suit he wore helped a great deal. Why, except for his tail which his trousers failed to cover, he looked just like any lobbyist from K Street.

Slimey came up, and sat at the opposite end of the bench. He said, in his sibilant-accented voice, “Friend. I hoped to find you here. Would you have a minute or two to help me with my research?”

Now, I did have plenty of time. But it is always the best of discretion to do whatever Slimey requested. We had a good relationship, but the possibility of his tearing my head off was constantly in my mind, whenever Slimey and I shared a space. So I said, “Sure. How can I help?”

Slimey smiled, then began. “I’ve been appointed merchandising manager for the Donald J. Trump On-line Emporium. Because of the overwhelming success of the shoes, we are trying to come up with new products that will move the needle just a bit, and manage to knock off just a few mill of the penalties that the legal system has imposed. You.” And here he paused for a moment, to turn and look at me. Slimey’s head could not move independently of his body, so it took longer for him to look directly at me. He continued. “You are part of my focus group. Not everyone I meet is willing to overlook my appearance, but you always have. Thank-you for that, friend.”

Well, flattery will get you anywhere, and even if it is coming from an 8’ tall reptile, I felt warmth run through me that wasn’t induced from the sun. I said, “Go on. I’m dying to hear about the products you have come up with.”

Slimey took that in, and bobbed his head slightly. He began. “First, there’s the Donald J. Trump hot air balloon. Just an ordinary latex balloon, but covered in a pithy saying, and complete with an inflator that exposes the saying, while filling the balloon with hot air. Floats for just a while, then comes back down to earth.” He stopped, awaiting my reaction.

I had to say, this was an underwhelming offering. “I’d pass on that one.”

Slimey didn’t seem to take the rejection personally, just went on to the next product. “We’ve come up with a dual-use product. It is a tube of Donald J. Trump laxative and hemorrhoid cream. Put a little in your drink, and then a bit on your tuckus. A little dab will do you.”

I thought for a moment. “That has some promise. I can see that being useful for your key demographic groups.”

Slimey shook his head up and down in agreement. “Yes, I thought we had a winner with that one. Now just wait till you hear about this next offering. It’s Bigley Condoms. Each package guaranteed to fit even the most demanding customer.”

That one took me aback a bit. “Wouldn’t that product offend some of your key constituents? I know some of them hold to the belief that every sperm is sacred. A product aimed at recreational sex? Don’t think it will fly.”

Slimey looked a little sad. “I had high hopes for that product. Ah, well, this next one is sure to be a winner. It is toilet paper, but not ordinary toilet paper. It is paper with each square embossed with a T, outlined in 24k gold. This is aimed at our more discerning followers.”

Slimey had done it again. I could see this being a runaway success, especially if paired with the laxative. And this was the first product I could see with major cross-over appeal. Even those who oppose the Donald would jump at the chance to apply this to their bodies. “Slimey, you have a real winner here. I can see this one becoming a product for all Americans. This one could bring about true unity in our country.”

Slimey got up. He had received enough feedback to proceed. After he said his farewell, and disappeared beyond the Jefferson Memorial, I thought I would look forward to the opportunity to purchase some of this new product and give it the honor it deserved as it served its purpose.

Trump – This Time Around

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Photo credit: Matt Barnard/Tulsa World Via AP. Photo of Tulsa rally 2020.

He viewed the slope going up to the microphone. Damn it, they forgot his explicit instructions that he was never to walk up or down an inclined plane. “Bring me my golf cart”.

One of his flunkies retrieved the golf cart from the hold of his plane, and drove up to him. He threw his 320- pound frame into the empty seat, and the cart took care of the hard work of the 1-10º slope right away. He swiveled his legs to the side, and gestured for the driver to go back behind the crowd until he was needed to go down at the end of his diatribe.

Once he assumed his place behind the teleprompters, he felt at ease. He stiffly raised his arm above his head, then did a little jig as the speakers blared out YMCA. Totally out of time with the music, he seemed to be a parody of himself. Still, his crowd ate it up, roaring a cry of “4 more years!” as he basked in the adulation he was receiving. It mattered little that the crowd only filled half of the available space, and the empty chairs stretched well beyond the section of the hanger allotted for the press.

He started with one of his sure-fire lines for success. “See all of the fake news out there. Probably waiting till I make some comment about poisoned blood so they can compare me to Hitler. Well, let me tell you now. Hitler had nothing on me. I’m going to be the greatest of all time. Folks will remember me before they remember that Hitler fellow. I’m going to start by executing all of these peddlers of fake news. Then maybe I’ll start to get some better coverage by what’s left of the fake news.”

His crowd ate this up. They began a chant of “Dead Fake News! Dead Fake News!” He listened for a while, then began again.

“I don’t know why these folks are so upset about a few words that I say. Just wait till I can use my powers again. Powers that should never have been taken away from me. Everyone knows I won that election. Those Democrats stole it from me. I had 7 million more votes than in ’16. They’ve never seen someone gain that many votes over a term. We should have stopped counting votes that first night on election day. Each day that went on, we lost more and more ground. I want to change the Constitution so that only votes cast and counted on Election Day count. No more of this voting till it turns out like the Deep State wants. I’ve had enough of that. Have you had enough of that?”

“Enough! Enough! Enough!” The crowd, although somewhat small, still made an impressive sound as they yelled in unison.

He smiled back at the crowd beatifically. He let the shouts decay, then began again before they had totally died away. “Of course, I still have to deal with all of these fake indictments against me. That totally evil man, Jack Smith. How I hate him! Did you know his wife hates me even more that Jack does? Those are two really evil people.”

A yell began to emerge from the crowd spontaneously. “Hang Jack Smith! Hang Jack Smith!”

He let the chant raise up to a deafening crescendo before he went on. “I need to get inside of that Justice Department and shred all of those folks who are trying to persecute me. They will never forget how I get my revenge on them. And you are going to help me, by voting for me, but more importantly, sending me money. I’ve begun a new thing. I need you to tithe to me as well as give to your church. Only if I have enough money can I bring down the evil doers who want to go after me.”

There was no unified response to this last statement. Just a sort of murmur that filled the arena with muffled sound.

“Of course, there’s evil we still need to face in this world. Can you believe they still want to waste money sending it to Ukraine? What I need is for people to let me get those countries to stand down. Why, I bet I can get Russia and Ukraine to stop fighting 6 hours after I get back in the White House. And why stop there? Can’t you just see it if we are friends with Putin, and Xi, and Kim Jong Un? We could tell all the rest of the world to follow us. We’d have all of the power then! These leaders are my friends. We can rule together!”

The crowd legitimately went crazy after that. Shouts rang out throughout the crowd, nearly drowning out the shots fired into the ceiling by some of the patriots who were packing. A part of the crowd broke away, seeking out the few news media still left in the hanger. “Kill them now! Kill them now!” You could make out a few people who were doing their best to bring about summary execution. Fortunately for the media, most managed to make it out of the doors. It was only a few who were set upon by the crowd and torn to pieces.

He was just about done now. Only a few more phrases to toss out to his ravenous hordes. “Just remember. They are coming after me only because I am protecting you. Without me, you would be at the mercy of those terrible, terrible people who want to tear down this country. If you want this country to be great, you must support me. I’m the only thing keeping them away from you.” And with that, he motioned for his cart to come around. It duly appeared, and he went down the treacherous slope with no hesitation. He rode in the golf cart all the way to his plane, because it would have been a hundred-yard walk. Nobody could expect him to make that kind of physical exertion. It might have caused his 6-pack to collapse. And we wouldn’t ever want to see that, would we?

State Secrets

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I got the call in the middle of the night. I could barely make out the words for all of the hissing and sibilance that came across the line. Those hints made me aware it was my friend Slimey, the original swamp monster from DC, who was calling me and disturbing my sleep.

Slimey was my friend, and I’m glad he took a shine to me. Imagine an 8’ tall reptile, with razor-sharp claws and teeth more reminiscent of an alligator than anything else you could come across in DC. Whenever I heard talk about “draining the swamp”, I could see humanity encountering the rest of Slimey’s family. It was only Slimey who had attempted to mingle with the rest of humanity, and really, once he put on a tailored suit which covered most of his tail, I had difficulty in picking him out from the rest of the K St. lobbyists. The one thing that always stood out though, was his size. He towered over the rest of us, and I guess that is why he was invisible to most of the inhabitants of DC. They were used to ignoring the biggest thing in the room, so of course, Slimey had the perfect disguise.

I tried to listen carefully. Slimey was directing me to come to the Tidal Basin as soon as possible. He wasn’t fooling around with any attempt to hide his abode. There had to be a good reason for this urgency.

It took me almost no time to pull on my pants and a t-shirt. Since it was still late summer, I didn’t need much else to stay warm. I ended up driving on the nearly deserted streets down towards the Jefferson Monument, where I would encounter Slimey. That was the place of our first meeting, shortly after the 2017 inauguration. Ever since then, I had encountered Slimey on streets, and at my front door. I instinctively felt that this retreat to Slomey’s home turf did not bode well for any of us.

I found myself near one of the streetlamps, sitting on a bench. Surely he could see me, and would approach. I still was taken aback when he emerged from the water itself, shaking to rid his skin of the extra water he brought up with him. No clothes this time, he was holding only a single document inside of a clear waterproof envelope. He took the few steps over to the bench and took his seat beside me.

“Well met, friend. I’ll bet you are wondering why I called you here.” Slimey was always one for delaying getting to the point. I had grown accustomed to his procrastination, so I remained silent, waiting for Slimey to proceed.

“I’ll not deceive you, this is the biggest thing I’ve ever had. I realized I could not deal with this myself, so that’s why I called you.” Slimey held up the envelope with the single piece of paper. “After this, I’ll not be able to show my face at all in this town. I’m going back home till all of this blows over.”

I finally found my curiosity was aroused. “Just what sort of thing do you have there?” I pointed towards the envelope, which was still grasped tightly in Slimey’s claws.

“This? This is the secret that will release all of the enemies. I can’t tell you how I got this.” Slimey looked agitated, and that is one state I hoped never to see – an agitated 8’tall reptile. I found myself sliding over to the edge of the bench, as far away from his claws as I could get while still staying somewhat close. I knew it would do no good if he ever really decided to use his immensely powerful, instantly deadly claws to tear open my unprotected gut, but the survival instinct kicked in, if only partially.

Slimey stood up. “All of the documents taken, all of the secrets. This one document explains everything. And I found I must turn it over to you.” He handed over the envelope, and gave only one instruction. “Wait until I’ve disappeared before you look at it.” With that, he quickly covered the distance to the water, and not caring who saw, he disappeared under the murky water into the DC swamps.

I waited for what seemed like minutes as he never breached the surface again. Finally, I opened up the waterproof envelope, and pulled out the single piece of paper. On it, there was only the following writing.

6’ 1” and 320 pounds.

Move Along. Nothing to See Here

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It must be nice to belong to a cult. Imagine having the ability to outsource all of your thinking. You just have to accept what your cult leader tells you, and even if the cult leader contradicts himself within a single setting, you can refer to his definitive posting is later on when he’s had the opportunity to correct reflect on what he said.  Never have to do your own processing of reality – you get reality spoon fed to you via regular dosage of your cult leader on your favorite media.

You do not have to have a functioning memory. So your cult leader can talk about how much respect has been lost internationally due to the feeble flailing of the current leader. You can eagerly forget the 2018 United Nations General Assembly meeting where the diplomats representing the nations of the world openly laughed at our dear leader. We should just get rid of the United Nations anyway. What use do we have of an organization that does attempt to set standards across international borders, anyway. We just need to go our own way and forget about the rest of humanity.

Oh, to revel in the selective memories of the cult leader. We do not need to proclaim our positions on any issue. We choose whatever the leader wants as a point of emphasis, and we will obfuscate, obliterate, and annihilate any attempt at the serious job of governance. We believe he is at the pinnacle of moral leadership. Witness the exploits of some of his most ardent supporters, Marjorie Taylor Greene and Lauren “Boom-Boom” Boebert.  There has been enough ink spilled about Lauren’s latest adventure in high culture, but here’s a bit more. Nothing can demonstrate overt hypocrisy better than tweets about church services being preferred to drag shows by a member of Congress, than the public fondling by the selfsame member of Congress of a new boyfriend who happens to be the owner of a bar that takes part in a civic festival which includes hosting drag shows. But our cult leaders have spread their wings over these two exemplars of common sense and cocktail culture.

Soon we will be privy to one of the great spectacles of Federal governance. The total failure of one house of Congress to keep the lights on in said government. To the nihilist class, this represents a crowning achievement. We will put these overreaching, unelected bureaucrats in their places, and we will prune the branches of government down to the roots. Who needs any efforts at curbing the excesses of the excesses of corporations. After all, without some oversight of global corporations, we would all be wandering about in the wilderness, wondering where our pollution controls and labor standards went. If we are really lucky, the convulsions of one party (the party of the cult) will result in the decapitation of the leadership of the house. What is the over/under on the number of ballots it will take to select a new speaker? I myself think the number is over 50. Can you bet on this in Vegas yet?

I’m not certain we ever need to revert to reality again. It is so comforting to live in the adulation of our dear cult leader. We can snuggle up under our covers whenever someone brings up unfortunate facts. We can officially refuse to listen to them because they are coming from all of the fake media sources that somehow manage to exist outside of the control of the cult. But just wait. Because the cult leader has promised retribution against all who have waged war against his holy cause. We do need for someone to get control over the evil world that insists we are victims of a cult leader. How else can we expect his Pax Americana to take hold if there are any voices in opposition? I know, there may be a few eggs broken in the transition to a more perfect union, but will we really miss hearing from the voices of those who persist in saying such horrible things about our dear leader? I am quite certain that we will be much better off when we have such a wise leader back on the seat of power he had been expelled from in the last “election”.

I know there are those who exclaim that our dear leader has lost a step or two over time. But I am here to exclaim to you he has always been consistent in his personality, and has never had any propensity towards saying things that can be factually corrected by checking against previous statements. Any media source that would bring those things up are candidates for retribution when our dear leader resumes his reign. Again, I say to you, there is so much peace you can have by placing all of your trust into this man who inhabits a 6’3”, 215-pound body. He uses the Harold Hill school of exercise. If you just think about it, you don’t need to actually exercise to maintain fitness. Besides, if you exercise, you take away energy you may need in future years. You only have so much energy in your life. Remember, everything is transactional, and we live in a zero-sum world. We can only aspire to hold on to what we once had, and when that is gone, we don’t have a country left.

I wish I had more time to share with you the wonderfulness of our dear leader. But they are ringing the dinner chimes, and soon I will be led down to the room where they will release me from my strait jacket, if only for a while, so I can enjoy the meal provided by my dear leader.

It’s All A Mental Health Issue!

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So, we don’t have a gun problem in this country. Instead, we have a mental health problem where folks who suffer from mental health issues snap and manifest their issues by shooting up your local: food store; movie theater; house of worship; school (elementary, high school, public, private, university); shopping center; or workplace. Or wherever those who are wanting to make their mark choose to unload their magazines.

Let’s look at mental health and see how this could be used as a factor in limiting access to guns, thereby reducing the toll of mass shootings. In order to be effective, there must be some sort of test a prospective purchaser of a gun must go through. That test would provide an objective answer as to who should be forbidden from purchasing a firearm. And of course, this would imply that every purchase of a gun is considered, thus closing any loopholes on purchases made outside of a retail establishment that sells firearms. In one fell swoop, those on the right have just made the case for universal background checks as a prerequisite for gun purchase.

Ah, but for many folks who have committed mass murder, they have no interaction with the mental health system. Literally the first time they exhibit clinical signs of a mental illness, is when they make the decision to pull the trigger on a crowd of people. Perhaps they would have shown evidence of anti-social leanings by looking at on-line postings. So Republicans seem to be advocating for some sort of screening of all social media postings, with the aim of preventing those who show anti-social leanings from acquiring more weaponry. Just like that, the right is arguing about the virtues of big brother monitoring the public space, and making determinations about what is protected speech vs. what provides evidence of mental illness. Amazing how arguing against controlling gun purchases actually leads towards imposition of massive state control.

Of course, if you have a system for detecting those who would have a propensity towards shooting up a public space, you must have some system in place to treat those who fail the tests of mental stability. Maybe we could re-open those state mental facilities that were closed down over the last several decades. That certainly was a preventive way to keep the looney population away from the rest of us. I don’t know how this approach squares with the actions of red state governors, who have slashed spending for mental health recently. I’m sure those governors will be happy to dedicate tax funding for such a worthy cause in the future, once it becomes part of a comprehensive approach towards minimizing gun violence.

What I just don’t know is how this sort of intrusive clearance process will be accepted by those who only focus on the portion of the second amendment which mentions a lack of infringement on the right to bear arms. That first part about well-regulated militia? Must be just a lot of gobbledy-gook words we can ignore. No, a true patriot just will not accept this sort of clearance process interfering with the rights of citizens from procuring the most modern machines for causing death and grievous injury. Why, those who would propose such limits would make themselves targets for the next round of action from the liberated souls who have purchased their manhood tickets these past years.

What, you mean to tell me it’s all been a ruse? Politicians on the right are just mouthing platitudes about mental health in order to prevent having to take real action about controlling purchases of weapons? I’m shocked, shocked to see such hypocrisy in our elected representatives. You might think they are afraid of their voters, and the hordes of mass shooters they’ve unleashed in their quest to ensure everyone in this nation is armed to the teeth. Who’d have thunk it!

Slimey Works For George Santos

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I was ambling down the sidewalk when I spied a familiar form speeding along coming towards me. It was none other than my old friend Slimey, the original DC swamp monster. His 8’ reptilian form was hard to miss, even if he tried to disguise it with clothing.

“Slimey” I shouted, as I attempted to intercept him before he could race past me. It was obvious he was in a hurry, but he did stop as soon as he heard my voice.

“Friend,” he called out. “You are just the person I was looking for. You may be able to help me out,” Slimey hissed in that distinctive accent of his. Amazing what a reptilian accent sounds like. Some of the consonants just don’t come across completely.

“What can I do for you?” I responded. Most of the time, I scarcely knew what to do with Slimey’s issues. I could guess this was going to be another time where I would be at a loss.

“You may be able to help me out with a situation concerning my employer. See, I’ve taken a position in a Congressman’s office.”

I shuddered to think of any representative who would employ an 8-foot tall reptile who crawled out of the Tidal Basin. Then it came to me.

“You are working for George Santos!” I exclaimed.

“A very good guess.” Slimey confirmed my suspicions by his nodding of his enormous head packed full of razor-sharp teeth. “Now, I need your help with a problem he has.”

I thought for a moment about the massive fraud that is George Santos. How he was elected to office as the epitome of a volleyball-playing, large bank lackey, college graduate, with parents who survived the holocaust but somehow didn’t survive the consequences of 9/11, only to be discovered after election as a member of the checked box “None of the above” club. It seemed George Santos didn’t need any of my ideas about how to deal with his issues. Still, I owed it to Slimey to at least provide an effort at a response. “What exactly is George’s problem.”

Slimey took a second before answering, stretching his neck as his head surveyed the heavens, then he said “George really doesn’t need his glasses. He wears them strictly for effect. He’d like to alert the world about this, in order to give up having to remember them, but no one is ready to believe the truth coming from his mouth.”

It took me almost no time to form a response. “You say he’s having a problem since no one would believe anything he says is the truth?”

Slimey shook his head in affirmation. “Yes, that’s his problem in a nutshell.”

I walked along the Washington street in silence, trying to come up with a response that would be practical but also represent my deep concern about this fraudster polluting the halls of Congress. “Can I ask just one question? Given his proclivity to, er, enhance his resume on serious matters, why is he concerned about something he wears?”

Slimey looked down at me, and even though his face was mainly frozen due to his massive jaw and rapier-like teeth, it seemed as if he was sneering at me. He said, “I can’t believe you are diminishing his problem so much. This one item is occupying his mind full-time, and it’s up to me to come up with a solution.”

I nodded my understanding, and stood still in silence. Around us, the hordes of K Street denizens barely took notice of our presence, save to slightly swerve around us, Everyone was engaged with their phone. Indeed, I wondered whether Slimey could have existed in the pre-cellphone days. Someone would have noticed his enormous form.

I finally said, “Maybe you could try this. Since everyone is convinced what he says is a lie, try just one more lie. Say that he has contracted an eye disease requiring him to expose his eyeballs to full air flow. That way he can take off his glasses, and everyone will think, yeah, just another one of his frauds, er, enhancements. He won’t have to worry about carrying those glasses along, and this will slide down to the bottom of the list of items for the press to be concerned with.”

Slimey stood staring at me. Then he went, “Why didn’t I think of that? That is a brilliant solution. I can’t wait to tell him about it.” And he turned away from me and went on down the street, leaving me alone.

All I had to do now was try to remember what I was doing before Slimey showed up, Fortunately, my stomach chose this time to emit a rumble, reminding me I was in search of the perfect chili dog before I was interrupted.

For a previous look at Slimey in his DC abode, see this: https://wordpress.com/view/evenabrokenclock.blog#:~:text=evenabrokenclock.blog/2022/07/19/yosemite%2Dsam%2Dmeet%2Dslimey

Washed in the Bodily Fluids of The Man

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Let me introduce myself. I am the newly anointed nominee for Senator in this state. Why, the big man has approved me because I was willing to lick his boots in exchange for his endorsement. And once I’ve gotten the endorsement for the nomination from The Man himself, I’ve been forgiven of all of my sins in the past.

What sins, you may ask? Well, let me go and summarize just a few of them. But it is important to note that all of my sins are now washed away in the blood of the lamb, or whatever bodily fluid happens to emanate from The Man.

There was the time I may have paid for one of my many admirers to have an abortion. It is important to note that now I am totally against any abortion at any time, no matter the circumstance. But in my past, my sinful past, I had many admirers, and one of them seduced me in a moment of weakness. Wouldn’t you know it? The condom broke, and this admirer found herself in a state of pregnancy. Well, I couldn’t allow that to happen, could I? A good family man like myself carrying on like a teenager? I was much older than that, and I knew better. And I knew there was a way out of this dilemma. I took it, and I’m not proud of it. But you already knew about my sinful past, now that I’ve been totally forgiven for all my earlier transgressions.

Oh, and about the school set up in my name, that seems to have been totally a scam? I can’t believe I could convince so many people to grab another mortgage on their house just to hear my words and learn my tricks. Of course, talking a foreign bank into taking yet another flyer on me and my wonderfulness for a high-rise development is so different from convincing a local bank to allow you to leverage yourself further in order to buy another rental home. But the rubes just kept coming. I couldn’t believe it when the state required me to desist and broke up my school. I even had to refund a portion of the fees! Imagine that. I was held responsible for my actions! Never happened before, never will again. Remember I’ve been forgiven of all of my previous transgressions.

Then there was the time when I used my own weapon to put down some of those rioters way back in 2020. See, I was only trying to protect the law-abiding property owners from the potential harm from the sea of protestors marching down the street. What else was I to do when some of them actually tried to pry my gun from my twitching fingers. Yeah, I’m sorry that two of them were killed, but all of that was in my before times. All of that has now been forgiven.

Look, I know some of the lamestream press went off when they saw those pictures of me in a confederate uniform. For God’s sake, I was at a battle reenactment and you needed some of those taking part to be on the losing side, even though their cause was just. And the uniform fit so well, I just had to wear it for Halloween, and that fancy costume party I went to. And can you imagine someone took pictures of me, and tried to show I had a pattern of only wearing the greys?  Just because I made some posts during the early days of social media wishing wistfully for the return of the previous era, it doesn’t mean I haven’t been totally redeemed and forgiven. I’m a changed man now.

As far as my beliefs go, I will admit that I dabbled in Q-anon, but all of that is now behind me. Just because I have called for my state to reverse its actions in the election two years ago, it does not mean I really believe a group of Democrats are kidnapping tens of thousands of babies, and draining their blood in satanic rituals in order to extract the youth-restoring compounds. Who in their right mind would believe that? And after all, this all occurred in my before times, before I found forgiveness. My past does not matter.

I will admit I had to grovel in front of The Man and proclaim him the rightful winner of the last election. Of course, that means the person in the White House is a usurper, and any actions taken to remove a usurper are perfectly in line with the moral compass of the universe. I do believe we will be able to reinstate The Man to his rightful role, and ignore that stupid clause in the Constitution limiting the terms in office. Why, I see no reason ever to limit the length that The Man can serve in office. And as healthy as he is, he should be able to drive that golf cart down the fairway of life for a long time. Not like that relic usurper, pretending that bike riding is morally and physically better than golfing. You won’t find me doing useless exercise. I don’t want ever to take away from my lifespan by breaking a sweat.

Well, there you have it. I hope you now know much more about me, and you will certainly want to vote for me instead of that Nobel Laureate I am running against. What do those folks on the Nobel committee ever do? Just keep rattling on about contributions to humanity. Well, I have so much more to offer than one of those fakers the Nobel committee chooses to honor. I don’t see that my opponent has ever been forgiven by The Man. That is the highest honor in the world to me.

Are You Calling Me A Socialist?

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I’m doing something I’ve not done before in this blog. I am reprising one of my old posts. I wrote this back in May of 2017, but it is still valid. Some of the figures may have changed over the years, but the sentiments are just as valid today as when I wrote it.

Disgruntled Republican Voter: I’m sure glad that I’m not one of those takers who expect the government to subsidize their health care. Everyone who takes a subsidy from the government is lazy and needs to get a better job that covers them.

Disembodied omniscient voice from above (think James Earl Jones): I’m glad you don’t want your health care subsidized by the government. So you will be in favor of having your health care from your employer being declared as income, and then you can pay taxes on it, right?

Disgruntled: I say – what are you talking about?

Disembodied: Health care benefits have never been considered as taxable income. This is a historical artifact from the time that health care was first provided to employees in WWII as a way to skirt wage controls.

Disgruntled: So what difference does it make who pays for it?

Disembodied: If businesses had to declare the value of health care as income for their employees, then the employees would be liable for taxes on this income. You just said you’d be happy to pay the taxes, right? Just so you wouldn’t be taking a subsidy from the government.

Disgruntled: I’m not sure … how much are we talking about here?

Disembodied: Let’s just use average figures here. You have family coverage, right?

Disgruntled: Yeah.

Disembodied: Average employer cost for a family policy last year was $12,600 per year. Now you are pretty successful, you make between $19,000 and $75,000 per year, right?

Disgruntled: Yeah.

Disembodied: Then you are in the 15% tax bracket. So if you had to declare $12,600 more in income, that means that the federal government is giving you about $1900 in tax subsidy for your policy from your employer. The one that distinguishes you from the moochers who get a government handout, right?  But then there’s more.

Disgruntled: More?

Disembodied: You live in a state with an income tax, right? Say the tax bracket for your state is 5% for your income. Then the state is giving you a tax subsidy of over $600.  That brings your total tax subsidy to about $2500 per year. But then, there’s the FICA tax to consider.

Disgruntled: What?

Disembodied: Since your taxable income just went up, you owe social security and medicare tax on this new income. So for $12,600, your tax that you don’t have to pay at all is almost another $1000 per year.  And your employer also avoids another $1000 per year that they’d have to pay to match your contribution.

Disgruntled: Ouch!

Disembodied: I calculate that due to the way that health care is accounted for in the tax code, your avoided tax is just about $3500 per year, and your employer avoids paying an extra $1000. So I’m glad that you’ve decided not to be a taker of government money, because your government could sure use the extra $4500 that you said you’d be willing to pay.

Disgruntled: Now wait a minute, I never said …

Disembodied: Oh yes you did. You said that you’d never want to be one of the takers who takes a subsidy from the government. That means you want to correct this problem in the tax system. Of course, if you were in a higher tax bracket, like 25%, you’d be getting even more free money from the government.

Disgruntled: You’re using fake facts. You’re probably part of the lying media. I’ve never seen anything about this on Facebook.

Disembodied: Believe what you will. Reality does not change based upon your beliefs. The facts are that you get money from the government to subsidize your health care benefit that you earn. Of course, you still pay all of the out-of-pocket and shared premium as well.

Disgruntled: And they keep going up and up. It’s all due to Obamacare.

Disembodied: Health care costs have been going up faster than inflation for decades before the ACA came into being. One reason is due to the screwy way health care gets paid for. We spend over 25% just on the administration. Funny thing is, when you have a single payer system like Medicare, that administrative burden goes down to about 5%.

Disgruntled: You mean single-payer would cost less? Why don’t we consider it?

Disembodied: Because the 1% class you put into the government believes that only moral reprobates who have immoral habits get diseases or have accidents, and they are the ones who drive up costs for the superior class of folks who have employer-paid health care. Besides, the 1% gets a hell of a lot of tax cuts when the taxes that supported the ACA are backed out.

Disgruntled: Yeah, but isn’t single payer socialism?

Disembodied: You mean the current system that gives free money to taxpayers and employers to have employer-based coverage isn’t socialism? Isn’t that government picking winners and losers? You’re a loser if you work three part time jobs and 60 hours a week but none of your employers provide health care and you don’t deserve any government subsidy? You’re a winner if you work for someone who provides health care as a benefit?

Disgruntled: Nobody knew health care could be so complicated.